


Soldiers of the Revolution

by TheLookingGlass_7



Category: Glee
Genre: 60s fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9443753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLookingGlass_7/pseuds/TheLookingGlass_7
Summary: “Don’t you want to take a stand for all those who couldn’t? We’ve been pushed around for so long, told that we were less than human. Bullies only respond to resistance. What’s so wrong with pushing back?” In late 1960s California, Michael Chang, a straight-laced college student, reconnects with Mercedes Jones, a childhood friend who changes his perspective. But as Mike discovers more about himself and the world around him, will he have the courage to fight for what he deserves?





	1. Chapter 1

**_Prologue_ **

Mercedes raced to the scene, horrified as the smoke plumed in front of her. Beneath her, she heard the crunching of glass. The fear and anguish were palpable--heavy as the smoke and as urgent as the cause.  She hoped, _prayed_ that Mike wasn’t in the rubble. That he got her message and stayed away from the demonstration.

She and Mike were supposed to be warriors—soldiers in the revolution. Their cause was justified, their steps righteous. How could this have happened?

Mercedes shook her head. Of course, this would happen. They were too organized, too smart. Their betterment programs were a threat to a government that profited off of exploiting and disenfranchising. For some reason, Mercedes thought this was their time. That the voices of the Black Panthers, Yellow Peril and Brown Berets could not be silenced if they worked together.

Come to find out the establishment was supported by their strongest and deadliest silencer.  

Moving forward, Mercedes searched through the frantic crowd, heart pounding with every person she brushed past. Ignoring the glass pressing into her knees and hands, she pressed on.

Mercedes could hear it in the screams and cries of those surrounding her, something was off. Something felt wrong. The heavy trail of tear gas made her eyes water and as her throat began to close she crouched down and kept calling his name. “Mike?” It was coming out in a raspy whisper now, her voice filled with more desperation and worry as the seconds passed. She should have heeded the threats better, been more cautious, protected him. If anyone laid a finger on him, if anything happened to Mike, it was all her fault.

Logically, she knew that wasn’t true. She knew that violence came when bullies had to relinquish power. She knew that living by the sword might mean dying by the sword, which is why she advocated nonviolent direct action. But it was difficult. Especially when she saw people who spoke out against violence meet violent ends. Surely change was coming, just over the horizon, she could feel it. She had to believe it. The nation was just going through growing pangs.

She knew the only way people stayed oppressed was by solely trusting their oppressor. Just like she knew standing up to the racist, sexist, university hierarchy might lead to this. Turning police against the people they were duty-bound to serve, silencing victims, and perverting justice were just some of the tools people in power used to stay in power. She’d seen it all her life, but never as profound as this moment, where she crawled by the administration building on Academic Walk looking for Mike.

They were so close. They accomplished so much. Because people weren’t just taking notice in Oakland, or even in California—the whole world was watching. She knew they would come out of this stronger and more victorious.

Mercedes figured if she said it enough she could delude herself into believing it, but a dirty and bloodied hand grabbing at her ankles confirmed her suspicions. She turned around and gasped, squinted so she could focus on who just grabbed her and moved closer to them.

“Mike?” He lay mangled and beaten, holding his stomach. Her hand reached for his face. It was weird how much the gesture comforted him. How much he yielded to her touch, but as soon as he felt her soft warm hand on his cheek, his pain lightened. And for a moment he closed his eyes and focused on that.

“We have to get out of here.”

Mike nodded. He could tell by her wavering voice that he looked bad. Hell, he knew he looked bad cause he felt horrible. But if he focused on the fading voices he could hold on, if he focused on her eyes he could stay strong.

Mercedes knew staying here was the equivalent of painting a bull’s-eye on their backs. Since the crowd was weakened cops and racist vigilantes alike would swoop in and try to maximize their assault. She had to get him someplace safe. Grabbing his jacket she dragged him as gingerly as she could. It took 10 minutes to move a few hundred feet but she released him. They were semi-safe, shielded by a tall oak tree as they faced the side away from the protestors.

She surveyed him carefully. His knee was mangled. Hit in a precise way that would inflict the most damage. Ripping off an arm from her cardigan, she fashioned a quick tourniquet of sorts and applied light pressure to try and make the bleeding stop. She looked in his heartbroken eyes and knew the attack was personal.

Her jaw was set, mouth tight in a straight line as she tightened the knot. Mercedes saw the hopelessness in his face, heard the pain in his voice. This was far from over, in fact, it sparked a new beginning. An act meant to silence them only made her want to yell louder.


	2. Chapter 2

_4 Months Earlier_

_Berkley California_

_September 1968_

* * *

 

Mike looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he adjusted his turtleneck; tinny  _Hey Jude_  lyrics came through the old radio player in his bedroom.

“Michael, your breakfast is getting cold!” Looking at his watch he grabbed his books and rushed down the stairs.

He couldn’t be late. Ever. He was Michael Chang Jr. a safe, reliable dependable junior at University of California Berkley. He was content to blend in the background, being the best but not calling attention to himself just like his father taught him. He would always say: ‘A wise man is slow to anger, seldom speaks and respects authority. Do this and you will have riches beyond your wildest dreams.’ His father’s words became his mantra.

Grabbing the plate of pancakes from his mother he gave her a grateful kiss on her cheek before sitting down and smiling when she slid his coffee to him. It was just the way he liked it—black with cream.

She stood in front of him gesturing to her legs. “See anything different,” she asked in her broken english.

He took a swig of his coffee and cut his pancakes expeditiously taking a moment to look at his mom pants. “Those are happening jeans mom.”

She beamed, excited that someone noticed. “You like them? Doris Fisher made them for me. She’s testing out some styles for her and Don’s store which should be opening next year.”

He nodded and smiled. Try as she might, she stuck out like a sore thumb in their lily white suburban neighborhood. It was times like this when he missed the city, and the diversity there. Where she didn’t have to try so hard to be something else and was more than content being herself. Why beg for acceptance from people who only zeroed in and faulted you on your differences? It seemed counter-productive to him.

All mention of her jeans faded when she realized what time it was. Checking her watch for confirmation she sighed deeply, just like she would every morning at 7:30 lately. Fixing her hair she stood and ran her hands down her legs, smoothing her jeans. Just like clockwork his father, who he’d dubbed ‘the blur’ whizzed out the door without so much as a goodbye. 

Mike watched her expression crumble for a brief minute before she plastered on a smile and turned to him. He wasn’t supposed to notice how hurt his mom was that his father ignored her, just as he wasn’t supposed to notice that his father had been ignoring her with increased frequency the last few months. It had been torturous watching the two—she did everything she could to get his father to notice her from cooking his favorite foods and meticulously ironing his clothes to wearing her hair in the style he liked. To her dismay, these gestures were expected according to Michael Chang Sr. Why notice or reward what’s expected?

Mike grabbed their lunches from his mom, thanked her again for breakfast and headed out to his father’s car before he could honk the horn.

Slipping into the passenger side he watched as his father rubbed the back of his neck. “When are you going to see a doctor about that?”

His father’s face turned to granite. “No time.”

Mike shook his head. His father was literally working himself to death. Although becoming the head shift manager at the clothing factory a few years back afforded the Changs a more comfortable living, it meant spending less time with his family. Yes the head shift manager position came with lots of gains, but Mike seemed to recognize the profound losses and sacrifices that came along with the position leading him to question whether the move was actually worth it.

“I’ll come by after class and pick up Mr. Green’s shift.” 

Seeing his father’s haggard face conjure a smile was more than worth the all-nighter he’d have to pull to finish his English paper. Since the unions had been more vocal about worker’s rights, they’d lost some employees which meant Mr. Chang had to fill in. Mike usually picked up a shift after classes but lately, he’d been picking up doubles. Being a full-time worker and a full-time student was weighing on Mike, though he’d never admit it. That would be like admitting defeat.

“I’ll come pick you up on my break,” his father offered, to which Mike shook his head.

“No need. I’ll catch the bus.” He would feel guilty if his father sacrificed one minute of his time on picking him up. Mike was worried about him. He wasn’t eating and could hardly keep his eyes open. He couldn’t continue like this. Reaching in the back seat he grabbed his books and his lunch. “Mom made your favorite lunch.”

His father nodded, barely paying attention to his father’s words. 

“Be good.” Mike gently squeezed his father’s shoulder and waved goodbye at his father’s typical farewell, heading to his first class. His father was never big on affection.

Finding his usual window seat, he sat towards the middle, his regular vantage point. No one really sat in the first few rows and the rows behind him were usually occupied by the jocks. The very last row, the one no one really liked to bother, was full of the revolutionaries. They were usually minority students who questioned the teacher’s every move. So disrespectful. It annoyed him really. He thought they made his life difficult with their rabble-rousing. Everyone lumped all minorities with _them_ and he continuously ignored their disappointed glances, gazing on him like he should join them. As if he was betraying them somehow.  In what he had no clue. And they seemed so scattered. What was their cause anyway? Did they know what they were fighting for or did they just love to fight? In truth, he was deathly afraid to be associated with them.

But there was one he missed associating with.

In walked Mercedes Jones and he discreetly watched her wave hellos and sit in the last row near the door. He had to admit she was adorable with her plaid culottes and vest set looking as beautiful as ever. It had been a while since she acknowledged him, years even, but the wound felt fresh every time he looked at her.

He always made it a point to keep his eyes to the front, stay focused, and avoid distractions. But every class he couldn’t help turning around and looking at her with a wistful smile. Even after all these years, he missed her something terrible. What’s worse, she never saw him. He only allowed himself a moment of remorse before turning back to the front. But a moment was all it took for that all too familiar pang of guilt to take root in his stomach.

Yes, Mike was confused about a lot of things, but he was sure severing ties with one Mercedes Jones was his single greatest regret.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Mercedes bristled as she tried to take notes. She could feel his stare but kept her focus on the board. It absolutely figures that Mike Chang, the boy she once counted as her best friend, was in her class. But no, it couldn’t just be one class, it had to be three. In three years at the University of California Berkley she had hardly seen him. Now it seems she can’t get away from him.

And what was his deal with the staring? She could feel him bearing holes in her back at his intense gaze. Always looking, but never speaking. Suppressing the need to roll her eyes she kept her focus on the professor as she mentally crossed off all the things needed to prepare for tonight’s rally.

She had every right to be jazzed about tonight. The minority student union was protesting against unfair treatment of their football team. Sure, the mostly black team was reluctantly treated as heroes in their hometown, but when they competed against southern teams, specifically in Mississippi, they were treated like animals. Most weren’t allowed admittance into restaurants, forced to get their food in the back. Sometimes they were forced to sleep on the bus as they were denied entrance to hotel rooms. But that paled in comparison to the death threats, burning crosses and bricks through the bus windows. It didn’t help that their white coach did nothing to protect the players, most of whom were on academic scholarship. He sat around and turned a blind eye even when he knew they were in hostile environments. The minority student union decided to take action when Pete Sanchez, the school’s All-American receiver was poisoned at a restaurant the coach insisted the team dine at in a small West Virginia town. Luckily he was back on his feet in a week, but the damage was irrevocable. The minority players didn’t trust their coach, and the coach in all of his hubris didn’t care. When the school’s president didn’t seem to listen, Mercedes decided they needed to be louder. She scribbled diligently in her book as she strategized. Her parents always told her she had it better than them, but she wasn’t so sure. Yeah, the racism was less overt, but it wasn’t gone. Even with the Civil Rights bill signed, Jim Crow continued to dominate southern culture.

Still, her thoughts drifted to Mike. They had been doing that for weeks now and it was frankly starting to cheese her off. She shouldn’t care about him. Not anymore. Not when he…nope. She shook her head in an effort to erase the memories. That was the past. They’d changed so much since then. No amount of staring with those deep soulful eyes was going to replace his betrayal.

Mercedes had to remain focused. Going down that path could only lead to distraction and the cause was too great to veer off course. She had to stay strong, of clear mind and unpolluted spirit because she knew she was in for the fight of her life.

And fighting is all she had done the past few years. From organizing protests for the war and participating in sit-ins and hunger strikes, she devoted all of her time to highlighting inequality.

She was jerked out of her thoughts when Naomi poked her in the ribs. The girl was both a good friend and ally for years. Having a high profile lawyer for a father had its advantages especially when helping divert friends from jail time.  But Mercedes liked Naomi because she was real.

“He’s staring at you again. Why don’t you just talk to him?”

Mercedes didn’t bother looking around she knew who her friend was referring to. “Drop it, Naomi.”

Naomi wasn’t going to drop it. She saw the look in his eyes and everyday wondered why her normally assertive friend shied away from talking to him. She had a weird feeling something happened between the two but when she asked (because she had no qualms about asking Mike about Mercedes) she never got a straight answer from either of them. “Maybe you should tell him about the rally. He play football, right? He’ll want to go.” Slipping the flyer from Mercedes’ bag, Naomi went about handing it to Mike but Mercedes caught it and flung her bag to the front of the desk.

“Trust me, he isn’t interested.”

Mercedes gathered her books, thankful that the class was over and the matter of Mike was dropped (at least for a few hours). But her friend was like a dog with a bone and even as she headed out the door.

"You’ve asked everyone else but you’re not going to ask him?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "No, I’m not. Seriously Naomi, cool your chops.”

“Even for the cause? What about doing whatever you need to do to get our voices heard? I bet Mike would want to go. Just ask him.”

"Ask me what?"

Mercedes stilled at the sound of his voice, the whisper of his breath at the shell of his ear. It had matured since childhood and she could hear the caution in it. It had been so long since they’d talked his voice sounded so foreign to her. Sure she heard him quietly answer questions when called upon, but having him this close and hearing his low rumble was doing things to her. Like making her involuntarily shudder.

He smirked at her as if they were still good friends. As if they weren’t acting like the other was non-existent for 10 years. He frowned a little and stuffed his hands in his pockets when he looked into her eyes. It had been years since he’d been this close to her and he finally confirmed what he knew since he was a child—she was beautiful. She was beautiful in a quiet way, a way that shone from inside, she radiated it, consumed it, and was encased in it. Beauty was more than what she is, it was _who_ she is.

Seeing her eyes skitter away from him, watching her shoulders tense and lips purse, he knew how much he regretted everything that happened between them. Not only because he’d felt like a coward, not because he lost his best friend, but because he missed the opportunity to be a part of her life, to watch the girl who was always so brave and strong become braver, stronger, and more beautiful than he ever thought was possible. He made a decision in that moment. A decision to fix everything that was broken in his life—to mend broken relationships and he would start with her.

“Macy, ask me what?”

Mercedes muttered under her breath still looking to when Naomi grabbed the flyer from Mercedes’ bag, again.

“Macy?” Naomi looked between the two and smiled when Mike’s cheeks heated up and Mercedes looked down at her shoes. Oh yeah, something happened between these two and Naomi was determined to get the juice. “Well, Mike there’s a rally tonight for equal treatment of the minority players. _Macy_ here.” She giggled and nudged her friend’s side. “Organized the whole thing. You should definitely be there.”

“He doesn’t want to be there.” Her words came out as more of a growl, not that Naomi noticed. Then she turned to him. “Don’t worry, I know you’re uncomfortable around those things. You can just ignore her.”

Great. Her first words to him in years and she was telling him he was unwanted. Normally he would back off, but he couldn’t. Not today. Not when he got to really be near her.

For the first time in a long time he took a chance. Stepping closer to her, and bending slightly so they were eye level, he handed her the flyer back. He ignored how fast his heart was beating and the millions of warnings inside his head which were all telling him to back off. “I’ll be there.”


	4. Chapter 4

Slack-jawed, Mercedes watched Mike walk away. Who was that? Smirking and walking away like he’d won some prize by talking to her. After 10 years of hiding, why did he suddenly feel the need to make his presence known?

And Naomi was no help, she just giggled and simpered beside her. “That was so _boss_.” She turned to face Mercedes and placed her hands on the shorter girl’s shoulder.  “He was all: ‘I’ll be there’. And did you see the way he was looking at you?”

Mercedes laughed as Naomi dropped her voice a few octaves and stood closer. Her impression was killer. But at least Mercedes kept her composure like she hadn’t when Mike said those words. Maybe she’ll think about that later. But for now, she needed to focus on the rally and not why he was so interested in attending. She had no idea what his angle was because the Mike she knew would never take a stand.

FLASHBACK

Eleven-year-old Mercedes Jones crept down the stairs slowly, wincing when a particular movement cause a sharp pain to bubble in her stomach. She knew she would get in trouble for sneaking out but she had to. She needed to see him.

Once she was successfully out of her house she snuck behind the trees separating their properties, her pigtails flapping in the wind.

She timed it perfectly. She knew his father would be at work now and his mother would be tidying up the already immaculate living room awaiting his arrival. That would leave the kitchen open, since Mrs. Chang always cooked an exact hour before her husband arrived from work so his food would be piping hot. Since he only lived a few yards away from her, she could sneak back in before anyone was the wiser. They had done it so many times before, it became routine. It was even easier to sneak her friend into her room when he had nightmares, which had been occurring more frequently.

She let out a whimper when Mike hugged her fiercely. Two weeks later and she was still bruised and sore.

“I’m sorry Macy did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, gently pulled out of the embrace and straightened up, trying to mask her pain. She only had a few minutes and couldn’t afford to waste any time. “My daddy said you won’t help.”

“I can’t.”

“But you saw what they did.” She couldn’t understand it. He was there with her. In fact keeping her eyes focused on his was the only way she survived.

He shook his head and whispered. suddenly feeling ashamed. “No, I didn’t.”

He was lying. She knew he was. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m uncomfortable with the idea.” Again another lie. Mike wouldn’t tell her how he almost ran away when his father ordered him to keep quiet. He did away with the idea because he wouldn’t leave his mother, and even though he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t disappoint his father. So he made a choice—family over friendship. “I wouldn’t be much help anyway.”

She stepped away from him further. “Yes you would. You just don’t want to. I don’t understand why you won’t help me? You’re the only one who saw what they did to me. Don’t you want them to get in trouble for what they did? You’re supposed to be on my side—I’m your best friend!” This hurt more than the punches and kicks ever did.

 “I’m sorry Macy. I can’t.” His father’s disapproving voice boomed in his mind.

She still couldn’t wrap her head around his refusal to help. “I don’t understand.” And she didn’t. She could see the fear in his face and wondered why it was there. She was taught to tell the truth...that it would set you free and there was no fear in it. If that was the case why was her friend so afraid?

She watched his face harden, his lips in a thin line. “You wouldn’t understand. Don’t you get what you’re asking me to do? A lot of people would not be happy.”

He rubbed his arm a gesture she knew meant he was nervous and it only made her angrier.

“So you’re choosing to lie?”

It took him a while to respond and it made him feel like scum watching disappointment flash on her face. Fear ran across his features as he heard footsteps approach. His parents would kill him if they found her here, especially after forbidding him from being around her.  “Shh, I think I hear my mom.” Grabbing her hand he tugged her further down the clearing, only stopping when he hear her cry out in pain.

She jerked her hand from his and backed away as quickly as she could. “Stay away from me.”

The apology died on his lips when he turned to look at her. When he touched her shoulder to get her to look at him she pushed him back and ignored the shooting pains in her arms. He wanted to try again but he didn’t want to hurt her. Instead, he sat on the ground where she pushed him and looked up at her.

Inhaling a big gulp of air and wiping tears from her eyes she forced herself to look at him. “I never want to see you again.”

Then she was off, hobbling back to her house and Mike just stared after her retreating form, knowing things would never be the same again.

END OF FLASHBACK

She bit her lip and turned away from Naomi so she wouldn’t see Mercedes’ chin tremble. Stupid tears threatened to reach the surface before she blinked them away. It was so long ago but memories of that night were still fresh in her mind. Maybe he had changed. It had been ten years after all. And they were both so young. Instead of focusing on the past she fixed her face, looped her arm through her friend’s and walked to her next class.

Mike purposely parked a few blocks away from the union, needing the time to prepare. He couldn’t believe he talked to her. After all this time she didn’t seem to hate him (well she didn’t push him to the ground, so he’d take it).

He couldn’t get over how different she looked. She had a fire he didn’t see before. One that intrigued him but also made him nervous. He wondered what she thought of him, although he cringed at her answer. He just knew he had to prove her wrong.

He was turning into the entrance when he saw something that gave him alarm: good old Rick Nelson and his crew fiddling with lighters and a small object he couldn’t identify in the dark.

Normally he would go the other way but not tonight. He’d done nothing wrong and he would be damned if he let someone intimidate him from mending fences with Mercedes. This night meant everything to her and he was going to be there. Pretending they weren’t there wasn’t working, especially when he heard them mention her name and something about ‘teaching that coon her place’. He wouldn’t sit by and let her get hurt, not again. Untold adrenaline (and a need to correct the past) coursed through him. Turning on his heels, he found the payphone a few blocks down and made an anonymous tip to the police.

When he returned they were still there in full drunk revelry. He brushed passed them ignoring the slur and snickers from the men. His father would be disappointed in him, would advise him to fly under the radar, but why should he hide like he did something wrong? Truth be told, there was a lot wrong with his father’s advice. Right before he opened the door he heard the sirens getting closer and smirked knowing their plans were stopped. 

If he were more observant or looked back at them a fraction of a second he would have known their threat was far from over. He would have known they suspected he called the cops. He would have realized their threat shifted from Mercedes to him.

Once inside he watched her move about the room and couldn’t help but bubble up with pride. There had to be at least 100 people gathered and she got them here. She helped unite them. Kept them focused. As far as he was concerned she was amazing.

That good feeling dissolved a little when he watched her talk to a tall blonde boy in the middle of the rally. It wasn’t that the boy seemed intimidating or that her meant her harm, it was quite the opposite. It was the hand brushes and matching grins that worried him. He thought they looked too comfortable. Anyone with eyes could see she was beautiful, and she had more than her fair share of male attention but he stuck out, being one of the only few white guys around. He spoke to her without a care in the world and Mike resisted the urge to punch him. Mike’s jaw was beginning to hurt with all the clenching he was doing and was only getting worse as Mercedes laughed at something the blond boy said. It must have been hysterical because she emitted a full body laugh that made Mike want to walk over and hear what was so funny.

But he knew that wasn’t his business. He was so busy staring he didn’t notice Naomi sidle up beside him.

“You actually showed. Now Mercedes owes me a quarter.”

He turned to her a moment and raised his eyebrows. “Is it that surprising that I would be here?”

Naomi squinted and nodded her head. “Considering the fact that you’ve been doing a ghost impression for years…yes.” Naomi followed his gaze to Mercedes and her friend Sam.  She nudged his side to get his attention. “You don’t have anything to worry about with that one.”

His mouth moved soundlessly before looking at her. Was he that obvious?

“Mmm Hmm.” Naomi clapped his shoulder with her hand. “I hope you can fix whatever happened between you two. I’m rooting for you.”

Then she was gone, disappeared into the crowd. Luckily he was able to find some friends from the football team and stood beside him. It was kind of odd seeing the way they talked about Mercedes with their goofy grins and twinkling eyes. Everyone seemed to be in love with her. They all quieted once Mercedes stood in the middle of the crowd, addressing everyone.

“What if I told you that you’ve been lied to? That the people who you look up to have a stake in keeping you down?”

He watched her impassioned speech, feeling every word grab at his heart. She was speaking to everyone but with every word she spoke she peered into his soul.

Turning to the football players gathered to her side she spoke into her bullhorn. “These men sit here trying to make a better life for themselves and their family and what do they find? They find opposition from the very people who are supposed to keep them safe.”

She shook her head. “I won’t allow this to happen.” She fed off the crowd’s claps and hoots in agreement. “ _You_ won’t allow this to happen.” And smiled when their cheers grew louder.

Her words excited him, they scared him, made him think about what he made important in his life. Maybe it wasn’t enough to keep your head down and stay out of trouble. Maybe Mercedes was right and you needed to scream louder than those who tried to silence you.

“Well, today we’re not asking for equality. We’re demanding it as our God-given right. We’re going to make this university uncomfortable. We’re going to get in the administration’s faces, expose them for the greedy, racist hate mongers that they are, and we’re going to get you safety.”

The crowd’s cheers grew as they grabbed posts and boards to make their signs. Standing in front of the President’s office backed up by some local television stations would definitely get their voices heard.

The whole thing lasted no more than 30 minutes (thankfully) without incident but in that time he began to wonder. He was miserable. Day in and day out he followed his father’s advice and kept to himself. What had that ever got him? Lost friends? Missed opportunities? He kept quiet about what he saw happening at home. Kept quiet about wanting to move when he graduated. Kept quiet about how he felt so damn inadequate most of the time.

The wind picked up and he stuffed his hands in his pockets with a contemplative smile. He and Mercedes didn’t talk during the rally but it seemed they had a million wordless conversations in their minds. He watched her at times and smirked when he caught her looking at him as well. She was so poised and graceful, so intelligent. He couldn’t help how angry he was at himself for not standing up for her when she needed him to. Because he truly missed out.

He was almost on his way home when he noticed the lights out on the front porch. That was odd. His mother always kept them on until everyone was home. Naturally, he began to worry. And that worry ratcheted up when he heard a soft whimper on the ground.

Mercedes beamed the whole way home. Not only did she get the backing of most of the media outlets, a feat unto itself, she was able to coordinate with the student union director at UCLA. She couldn’t believe Sam Evans drove all the way up for the rally, but she knew his gesture of solidarity would rankle the administrators. Mercedes didn’t know what to make of Mike. She was shocked to see him there, all the while angry that it took him so long. It was irrational, she knew, but Mercedes was never rational when it came to him. She always ended up disappointed when he didn’t reach the high expectations she had for him. He wasn’t a superhero, but she never stopped treating him like one. Well, _before_. Maybe she would see him at another rally. She shook her head. She wouldn’t hold her breath.

Slipping out of her coat she hugged her mother as she went to tell her about the rally. The words caught in her throat when she saw her mother’s solemn expression. Her red-rimmed eyes told her something was wrong.

Pulling out of the hug, she wiped a tear from her mother’s eyes. “What happened?”

“It’s Julia Chang. She was attacked tonight.”

 


End file.
